[CHAPTER IX.]
RED GOLIATH, THE GIGANTIC HERCULES.
Mason, General Custer's boy friend, leaned forward still more, relying on the hold he had upon the tree bending over the water, when that unmistakable sound, the dip of a paddle, reached his ears.
Underneath him the water of the Little Horn gurgled and plashed among the stones jutting out from the bank; close by a melancholy owl tried to make night hideous with its solemn declarations of warning, and once in a while the barking of dogs in the great village could be heard; but to these usual noises the boy paid little heed, as he had heard them for some time past.
The silver crescent still held forth in the western sky, and its meager light, augmented by the united force of stars, proved sufficient to see the opposite shore of the river, which at this point was rather narrow.
Could the boy's mental faculties have given him warning that it was not a common foe he was about to see?
There have been many occasions when persons of fine perceptions and susceptibility have realized, seemingly by tuition alone, that those whom they bear no love for are in the vicinity.
With some people this delicate sense of knowing what even the eyes and ears fail to tell becomes an art.
Many a deaf and blind man can tell, even the instant he enters the room, whether it be occupied or not, no matter how quiet those within may render themselves.
I only state this to defend my position when saying that young Mason appeared to suspect that a foe of more than common caliber was approaching.